fainted"--she
clenched her white fingers as she spoke, and cut out viciously with
the dog-whip--"it would do more to keep him good than any number of
high-minded theories of morality."

"Why, Kate," said my friend, "you are quite savage to-day."

"No, Jack," she laughed. "I'm only propounding a theory for Mr.
Armitage's consideration."

The two began to chat together about some Aberdeenshire reminiscence,
and I had time to observe Mrs. Merton, who had remained silent during
our short conversation. She was a very strange-looking old lady. What
attracted attention most in her appearance was the utter want of colour
which she exhibited. Her hair was snow-white, and her face extremely
pale. Her lips were bloodless, and even her eyes were of such a light
tinge of blue that they hardly relieved the general pallor. Her dress
was a grey silk, which harmonised with her general appearance. She had a
peculiar expression of countenance, which I was unable at the moment to
refer to its proper cause.

She was working at some old-fashioned piece of ornamental needlework,
and as she moved her arms her dress gave forth a dry, melancholy
rustling, like the sound of leaves in the autumn. There was something
mournful and depressing in the sight of her. I moved my chair a little
nearer, and asked her how she liked Edinburgh, and whether she had been
there long.

When I spoke to her she started and looked up at me with a scared look
on her face. Then I saw in a moment what the expression was which I had
observed there. It was one of fear--intense and overpowering fear. It
was so marked that I could have staked my life on the woman before
me having at some period of her life been subjected to some terrible
experience or dreadful misfortune.

"Oh, yes, I like it," she said, in a soft, timid voice; "and we have
been here long--that is, not very long. We move about a great deal." She
spoke with hesitation, as if afraid of committing herself.

"You are a native of Scotland, I presume?" I said.

"No--that is, not entirely. We are not natives of any place. We are
cosmopolitan, you know." She glanced round in the direction of Miss
Northcott as she spoke, but the two were still chatting together near
the window. Then she suddenly bent forward to me, with a look of intense
earnestness upon her face, and said--

"Don't talk to me any more, please. She does not like it, and I shall
suffer for it afterwards. Please, don't do it."

I was abo